


The Search is Over

by thesupernaturalcolt



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: AU where Sherlock wrote "Book of the Damned", Borrowed canon dialogue, Cas confesses his love, Cas was there for everything, Charlie and Sam make passports at Kinko's, Dean confronts a lot of shit, Dean is a bit of an asshole in the beginning, Destiel - Freeform, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, God actually gave some good advice, I constantly thank whoever put the transcripts online, I promise, I try to update frequently, Implied Johnlock, It Gets Better, John Watson makes a good bitchface, M/M, My First Fanfic, Mystery Spot, POV Multiple, Post-Episode: s10e14 The Executioner's Song, Reader and Sam in a relationship, Reader is tired of Dean's shit, Sherlock got bored so he started studying demonology, Thanks for the kudos!, Yes they were the ones that wrote "Eye of the Tiger", You and Sam are Sherlock fangirls, You're a little sassy, cas comes back, named after the song "The Search is Over" by Survivor, oh the feels, spoilers for seasons 9 and 10 in chapter 4, takes place in season 10
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-17 14:08:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3532148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesupernaturalcolt/pseuds/thesupernaturalcolt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Formerly "You're the Key to my Super-Lock"</p><p>About six years ago, the Winchester brothers saved you from a vampire attack. You became the third member of Team Free Will (just a few months before Dean's death) and quickly became close to the brothers; and quite close to Sam. This story takes place right after "The Executioner's Song," and Charlie came back with some interesting information on the book she read that might just help cure the mark once and for all: the one and only Sherlock Holmes wrote the book because he started studying demonology when he got bored one day. So, you, Charlie, and the Winchesters fly to London to meet with him. Will Dean finally be cured?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Taking on the World

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I have a few things to say before we start this journey:  
> \- This is my first official fanfic ever so please be nice, although I do love constructive criticism!  
> \- I'm sorry if I don't get all of the details right, but I had to change some bits.  
> \- Some chapters may be short  
> \- I will try to update as quickly as I possibly can!
> 
> Enjoy :)

It was just another ordinary day in the bunker. You were in the library with Dean trying desperately to find the cure to the mark while Sam was taking care of some things, and Cas would be gone for a while due to some problems in heaven. The farther things progressed recently, the more you started thinking. Dean was like the brother you never had, and it broke your heart to see him like this. The Dean you knew before was still in there somewhere, you knew it for sure. But how would you get him out? He was miserable and you could see it. You've done everything for him you possibly could. You've read through each book the bunker has on the mark at least 3 times, and Dean has probably tripled that. And most of all, you tried to keep him calm. On the bright side, Charlie was off getting that library book and should be calling soon with info on it. Right now, all that was left was hope and boredom. But mainly boredom. Then, Sam comes walking through the door with a crazy idea.

*********

Dean was sitting in the library with (Y/N) for what seemed like an eternity, but he got nothing done. He wasn't reading; he was trying to comprehend his thoughts and flipped a page every now and again to make it seem like he was so that (Y/N) wouldn't get pissed. Ever since he was cured, he hasn't been able to think straight. The things he did, the people he hurt (and not just while he was a demon) were clouding his thoughts and dreams. They never went away. He's hurt everyone, and some days it seems like it's just not worth it anymore; but he holds on anyways. He has to.

_Do it for Sammy. Do it for (Y/N). Do it for Cas. Do it for Charlie. Do it for anyone who wants to see you fail. Show them that you're stronger than this. No Winchester in his right mind would let something like this overcome him. Not ever._

Those words were what kept Dean going through the day. His smiles weren't always genuine, but they did the job.

Just as Dean was about to start actually reading the book in his hands, Sam walks in.

*********

Sam had finally done it. He had found somebody who could help Dean.

Charlie had called about half an hour ago with details on the book she volunteered to go get, and it wasn't the book that was the answer: it was the author. Sam knew this book would be promising because none other than Sherlock Holmes had written it: to Sam, this man was remarkable. He lived in London and helped the police department solve seemingly impossible crimes (Sam had read all of the blog entries after he became fascinated with him while doing a paper back in his Stanford days on the value private investigators in criminal investigations), was apparently a perfume expert, and now he is studying demonology.

Luckily, Sam was able to get in contact with Sherlock and schedule an appointment to discuss the mark. Sam knew it was a long shot, but he was willing to take it. He never told anybody, but Sherlock was his academic role model, so it would be worth it either way.

***********

"Hell yes! I've always wanted to go to London!!" you said.

You wouldn't admit it to the boys, but Sherlock Holmes is possibly your favorite person in the world. Having to put up with the brothers' stupidity sometimes really made you wish you had people like him around all the time.

"How about HELL NO! Listen, last time we got on an airplane it was about to get crashed by a fucking demon and you want to go on another plane?!? And an international one at that! And do you guys realize how much security measures there are at airports? And remember how we're kinda wanted for every crime in the book? Not to mention the fact that we don't have passports. Yeah, that would work out great," Dean shouts. You couldn't help but think that he did have a point with those security problems.

"Dean, you just don't wanna go because you're afraid of flying," Sam quickly says. "Don't you think I would've sorted out any potential problems before coming in here and telling you guys? Charlie said she can work some cosplay magic, whatever that is, on our faces to make us look not like us and I can make fake passports for us at Kinkos just like our FBI badges. And I think we can handle one monster if there does end up being one on our flight, which I doubt there will be. We'll load you up on Xanax and whiskey. You'll be fine. Just trust me on this, I wouldn't drag you onto a plane if I didn't think it would help."

"Fine. But I get full rights to an 'I told you so' moment if anything happens."

"Deal."


	2. The Miles Stretch Out Behind Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 chapters in one day :)
> 
> I should have chapter 3 done by the end of this weekend.

Two days later, Charlie came back to the bunker to work on disguising you, Sam, Dean, and herself so that the four of you could go to London. Why she needed to disguise herself was a mystery to you, and given that it was Charlie, you frankly didn't want to know.

"Okay (Y/N), you're first. What do you want to look like? And no, you can't say yourself. Being Chewbacca's girl, you're just about as wanted as they are."

"What's your speciality?"

"Oh honey, I can make you anything in this world and anything this world ever imagined. But, since we're just using these as airport disguises, I'll go easy on you."

"Okay, I'm less scared now. Let's go."

*************

As soon as you and Charlie left the room, a small conversation starts between the brothers.

"Chewbacca's a new one. I think I finally prefer Moose," Sam says in order to break the awkward silence.

"I kinda like it. It has a nice ring to it, and a pretty accurate visual," Dean snaps back with obvious hatred in his voice for the flight plans today.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

***************

"Okay (Y/N), young or old?"

"Young"

"Male or female?"

"Hmmm. I'll stay a girl, no need to freak the guys out or something. Plus, if I have to pee, I can't exactly use a urinal."

"Touche"

Charlie changes everything you once knew about yourself. Your (dark/light) hair was turned to (other choice) hair through a rather realistic wig. She put a mild bronzer on you to change your skin tone a bit, changed your nose slightly, and padded some areas. You could barely recognize yourself.

*************

You walk out with Charlie to surprised Winchester faces.

"What. The. Fuck." Dean manages to get out.

Sam was at least able to get a compliment out. "You still look beautiful to me."

"What did I ever do to deserve my beautiful Chewbacca?" You say, reaching in for a quick kiss.

"Everything," Sam says, returning the kiss.

"Okay guys, let's get this show on the road. I have 3 more faces to create and Sam's still gotta make the passports. Your turn, lover boy."

**************

_5 hours later..._

The makeovers were finally done. For whatever reason, there wasn't much that Charlie could do with the boys; so, she kept it simple and changed their facial features a bit. What really got you was that she completely changed Sam's hair. The passports were made and authenticated in government servers (a team effort), and Baby just pulled up to the airport.

_About 1.5 hours after that..._

You, Charlie, Sam, and Dean boarded the plane. Dean then proceeded to check the plane for anything supernatural, and thankfully found nothing.

"I told you everything would turn out fine."

"There's nothing wrong with being safe."

You took the opportunity while you had it. "And there's nothing wrong with being scared Dean."

"Shut up."

"Admit you were wrong and I just might," you snap back.

"I was wrong (Y/N), jeez. Happy now?"

"Not quite. Admit you were scared."

"No way in heaven, hell, Earth, or purgatory."

"Well then I guess I won't shut up."

Dean shot you probably the best bitch face he had, but it was nothing compared to the ones Sam had given you from time to time. He was powerless against you (for now) and he knew it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I am sorry if this sucks. Next chapter will be a flashback to provide some background as to how you started hunting with the boys (and I'm going to incorporate some smut) so please stick around :)
> 
> Once again, all constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.


	3. Living for a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to when you first met the Winchesters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 chapters in one day?!  
> I must really be on a roll :)

In order to divert attention, Sam had chosen to fly the red-eye. So naturally, you fell asleep on the plane for a little while. In this surprisingly good sleep, you found yourself dreaming about when you first met the Winchesters.

_About 6 years ago…_

It was a normal Tuesday night, and you were on your way home from work. You walk home because almost nobody owns a car in New York City, and you can never get a cab for some reason. You realized that this back alleyway cuts your commute by about 15 minutes each way, so you walk through there every day. But, you’re not stupid: you carry pepper spray just in case some pervert gets the wrong idea or somebody tries to mug you.

But anyways, you were walking home like normal. It was dark out, and you got this weird feeling that somebody was watching you. Then, almost like clockwork, you heard footsteps behind you: approaching you. You got your pepper spray ready, but you were pinned against the wall before you could use it. He opened his mouth and hissed, and you swore you saw sharp teeth coming out of his gums; but you must’ve hit your head and started seeing things. This was just a mugger.

Before you had time to process anything else, you heard two sets of footsteps coming from the entrance of the alley: they were running. _Please don’t tell me he brought friends._

“LET HER GO! DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HER!!”

_Did I bring friends?_

The two men that were running finally approached, and before you knew what was happening your attacker’s head was chopped off; the machete just barely missing you. Under any other circumstance, you would’ve run away screaming straight to the cops, but this was different. You actually found yourself running to the taller man to hug him. “Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!” He and his friend actually started laughing a bit, despite being covered in blood.

“Aww, Sammy’s got a new girlfriend! Better watch out honey, they tend to have bad things happen to them,” the shorter man says.

“Shut up Dean, she’s fine.”

Well at least now you know their names, that’s a start, right?

“I’m (Y/N). Like I said, thanks for saving me; I couldn’t reach my pepper spray, so I probably would’ve been done for if you didn’t come.”

The shorter one speaks up first. “It is the family business after all. Want a ride home?”

“Sure. Just as soon as you explain this ‘family business’ to me.”

The two men exchanged looks, and you could tell that they were silently arguing. The tall man seemed to want you to say, and the shorter one had a look on his face that seemed to say “no way in hell.” A simple game of rock, paper, scissors ensued, and that was how you learned about what went bump in the night.

Sam and Dean were brothers that were raised to hunt monsters by their dad after their mother was killed by a demon. They traveled the country, saving countless people. They were in NYC investigating a possible vampire nest, and their suspicions were proven true when they saw you. You weren’t getting mugged, you were about to get turned into a vampire. The Winchesters saved you, and just in time.

“I’m in.”

“Woah woah woah. You don’t want this. It’s not fun. It’s not even pleasant. Monsters are dicks. Angels are even bigger ones, even though they don’t even have them,” Dean is quick to say.

“Come on Dean, I have a feeling (Y/N) would be a good hunter, and she can do research until she proves it to you. Not to mention the fact that more monsters will come after her. She’ll be a million times safer with us.”

Another silent conversation. Another game of rock, paper, scissors. Sam won.

You were now a hunter. Dean introduced you to Baby, and drove you over to your apartment to grab your things. A few hours later, the Impala pulled into the parking lot of the motel where they were staying before they found you. Dean got another room for you because their room only had two beds, and you were unpacking when Sam walked in.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself, what’s up? Is something wrong?”

“No, I just know that the first night can get kinda rough, and I was wondering if you maybe wanted me to stay in here for a little while. ‘Ya know, answer any questions you may still have or a supply a shoulder to cry on if you need it. It’s best to get it out of your system now (and away from Dean) as opposed to on the road.”

“Aww thanks! I would love that.” You weren’t ready to admit it yet, but you were in love with Sam: he was your knight in shining armor that saved you from vampires. Not exactly storybook quality, but it was more than enough for you. He went into the other room and came back fully ready to crash, taking out vampires must be pretty exhausting sometimes.

"I'm back. If you need anything don't hesitate to tell me. I may be sleeping because I'm really tired right now, but I'm a light sleeper so just say the word and I'll be there."

Okay, now you were sure you loved him.

"If it's not too much to ask, I'd feel a lot better if you slept in my bed tonight."

"I wouldn't mind that at all." What you didn't know until quite a while later, Sam was in love with you at that moment too.

 

 

_A few days later..._

You and Sam had spent a lot of time together in the past few days, and you were finally ready to take it a step further tonight.

Dean had decided to let you hunt for the first time with them tonight, it was a simple salt-and-burn. It felt nice knowing that you had saved people's lives, and even better knowing that you were finally a true hunter.

Ever since your first night with the boys, Dean was the one that got his own room. Nothing had happened yet, but you were going to change that tonight.

"Hey Sam. Thank you so much for letting me come on the hunt with you guys, I'm finally a legit hunter!"

Sam smiled. "I always knew you had it in you."

"Well then that's impressive that you knew something about me before I even knew. Do you like me that much that you'd be able to read me better than I can?"

"You could say that," he said, with a slight smirk on his face.

"Oh really? How much more do you know?" You say, genuinely curious.

"Well, I know that you love me."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Prove it."

And just like that, he's right in front of you and his lips move to yours. His hands are everywhere, and it's clear to you that you're getting what you wanted. He leads you over to the bed and...

"(Y/N)! Wake up!! Last call for breakfast before we land, and I figured you'd want something." Typical Dean, waking you up from a peaceful sleep for food. And right before the good part too!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I mentioned smut, but I'm not comfortable with that yet and I don't want to make this awkward.


	4. That Was Just My Style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock finally comes into play!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to update, I was going to go in a completely different direction for this chapter and just changed it last night; well, that and school kept me busy a lot.
> 
> WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR ABOUT ALL OF SEASON 9 AND THE BEGINNING OF SEASON 10

About an hour later, the plane landed in London. The meeting with Sherlock was going to happen soon, so you had just enough time to go check in to the motel and unpack your stuff. If you learned one thing in your time with the Winchesters, it was that they could find a dingy motel anywhere; and sometimes better than the locals. But, with that said, you were accustomed to motel life. The taxi pulled up, you unpacked, and rode another taxi over to 221B. That was just about it. The one thing you remember about that taxi ride is Sam talking to Dean. "Since killing Cain didn't work, this is probably our last shot, so, um, don't get angry at him or punch him in the face or something... I hear he can be irritable and can read you better than Missouri; and I know you did not enjoy that." You and Charlie laughed for the rest of the car ride at Sam and Dean's facial expressions directed toward each other.

*****

You, Sam, Dean, and Charlie walk into the flat and are greeted by the ever-loving Mrs. Hudson. But nevermind that, you were just excited to talk to the one and only Sherlock Holmes (and John Watson too, but he's just an afterthought at the moment)

Sam walks into what you presume is a living room, and you don't even have to be introduced: you would recognize him anywhere. Sherlock Holmes. "Mr. Holmes, nice to talk to you again. And thank you so much for helping us with our problem." If you weren't full-on fangirling, you probably would have noticed that Sam was shaking a little bit. But you didn't have to, because Sherlock noticed right away.

"Oh please, call me Sherlock. So, I heard bits and pieces of your story, and I am well aware of who you all are. The question is, why do you need me of all people? I am a very busy person and with that said you have five minutes to capture my attention and make me want to help you. DON'T be boring."

"Sherlock! They just flew in here from KANSAS and they only have five minutes to tell you over a year of their lives? You need to give them more time if you want the entire story."

"I don't want the entire story, just the interesting parts."

"SHERLOCK!"

"Fine... six minutes."

"Sherlock..." John says with a growl in his tone.

"C'mon, six minutes is plenty!"

_Cue John Watson bitchface._

"Whatever. Take your time, just DON’T be boring."

Dean is the first to speak up. "Well, there was this demon bitch named Abaddon..."

From inside the kitchen, you hear a faint "Language, young man!" from Mrs. Hudson. What everyone else hears is John. "I'm sorry, did you say demon? Those don't exist. He said demon. Sherlock, did you hear that or am I going insane?"

Sherlock speaks up. "Yes, John. He said demon. They're real. Everything supernatural. That's why they're here. They need help and they realized that I study demonology because they actually read my website. Dean, continue."

"Okay so Abaddon was wreaking havoc. Like _bad_. She was competing with Crowley for ruler of hell and, well, she was winning. But, we couldn't just kill her with the demon blade or the Colt because she was actually a Knight of Hell and could only be killed with the First Blade. This thing is ancient (supposedly the archangels used it to execute the Knights, but it was actually Cain: the very own Father of Murder) and it's useless without the Mark of Cain." Simultaneously, Dean rolls up his sleeve to show it them. "I teamed up with Crowley to find the blade, and got it once I proved my worth to Cain himself. We then killed Abaddon, but then we were going to use it to kill Metatron: the scribe of God. He was making Castiel (the angel that pulled me and Sam out of hell) look bad as he was trying to rally up the rest of the angels; not to mention the fact that he tricked Cas into casting all of the angels out of heaven and stole his grace at the exact same time. Well, we tracked him down while he was playing messiah at a homeless camp and he killed me. Stabbed me with an angel blade, to be exact. Sam carried my dead body back to the bunker, and then Crowley showed up. Apparently, when a human that possesses the Mark dies, they turn into a knight of hell themselves. Connect the dots, I was a knight of hell that traveled around the country with Crowley, until Sam captured me and cured the demon inside with some blessed blood. But, my problems were far from solved. I was violent. The Mark craved murder, and it usually got it. But not the murder of monsters, the murder of innocent humans. If not murder then bad injuries. It burns my arm and will never stop clouding my thoughts until we get it off. We just want it gone. And one random day, Sam here comes barging into the library of the Bunker and tells us that if we go to London you could help."

Sherlock looks up from his hands that were resting on his face as he was listening and says "I'm in. I think I know exactly what you need, but you may not like it very much."

You had never seen so much happiness on Dean's face in your life. He wiped the tears that were starting to form in his eyes from reliving those memories and said, "If you can get rid of this mark I will do anything for you. Hell, I might give you baby. So, what do we need to do?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come! I'm on spring break this week so expect some more out of me some time soon!!


	5. Good Luck, it Finally Struck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cure is announced and explained... plus some other stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter (in my opinion) is the best one yet, but it can always be better. Let me know what you guys think.
> 
> And I apologize in advance... there's some major feels.

"If you can get rid of this mark I will do anything for you. Hell, I might give you Baby. So, what do we need to do?"

"Well, Sam told me over the phone that Metatron's 'the river ends at the source' thing didn't work out as expected, so I have a few alternate ideas. It may be a few hours before I get something concrete. Dean, I need a skin cell sample and I need everyone else but John to leave until I have a scientific explanation for this."

"If you can get this off of me, I don't care what you need. You could rip me in half and I would let you as long as I came out alive and without the mark."

"Okay, I get it. You're grateful even though I haven't even done anything but bring you to the verge of crying and tell you that there's a POSSIBILITY of me actually helping you. Now, will you just shut up and sit still so I can take what I need and you can leave?!?"

"Good luck with that. We've been trying for years and have never succeeded," Sam retorts.

_Cue Dean Winchester bitchface._

"Well then it looks like we finally have something in common, Dean. But, what you don't know is that I already got all that I need and more while you were having that silent conversation with your brother... see?" Sherlock says, holding up a cotton swab that he places in a test tube. "And might I say that you guys are lucky there were no children or elderlies to hear that."

John is quick to speak up. "Since when do you care about manners?"

Ironically, Mrs. Hudson walks in at that exact moment. "Hello again! What did I miss? Were you two fighting again? I've told you before and I'll say it again: don't fight in front of your clients! Settle your problems on your own bloody time!"

You, surprisingly, were the first to reply. "It's fine, really. We were just leaving now that Sherlock has everything he needs. C'mon you guys, I've got something for us to do while we wait. Sherlock, when do you want us to contact you again?" Silence. "Well then. The man needs us gone so we might as well leave him be."

You, Sam, Dean, and Charlie leave. Only John remains. "Okay fill me in on something here: how is it that you have the solution to a problem that nobody in human history could solve in two conversations?"

"Well I don't have an exact solution yet, but, to answer your question: they were too stupid to realize that the answer was simple and right there all along. Get a taxi, we need to go to St. Bartholomew's."

_Meanwhile..._

Charlie is finally able to get a few words out once you guys left. "So, um, that was interesting. Who else wants to run while we still can?"

"No way, I actually kinda like the guy! He said he can get rid of this son of a bitch and if that's the case I'm not gonna do anything to make him angry. How about some celebratory pie?"

"Did you not listen to me earlier? I've got something for us to do, and I think you'll like it. How about we experience the native culture through an English pub?"

If Dean were still a dog, his ears would have perked up. "(Y/N), I like the way you think. Which way to the booze?"

"I had a feeling you'd say that. This way... I know a good one."

"Yes ma'am."

**********

"John, hand me that skin cell sample, some dopamine, and some norepinephrine. Don't forget the pipettes!"

"What could you possibly need dopamine and norepinephrine for? Do I even want to know?"

"If you must know, I am using them to stimulate human emotions. This mark is feeding off of them and if I can find one that cancels it out I can get rid of it. All of these hunters think that the answers to all of their problems are found in lore, but this one will be found using modern science."

"For once you're actually making sense. I can't believe no one ever thought of that... oh there's the dopamine! How did you even think of this? And there's the norepinephrine. Is there anything this lab doesn't have? Here you go."

"Of course I'm making sense. And it was when Dean said that the mark _craved murder._ Every craving has a reversal. Since the craving is an emotion, it is plausible that the reversal is also an emotion. It seemed like that was just about the extent of his problems, so what we're going to do is figure out a way to reverse that craving; artificially in this lab and then based on the emotion will advise them on the natural cure. And I think I know what it is: dopamine."

"Why would you say that?"

"Well, the skin cells from the mark are reacting rather negatively to it. Usually negative reactions are the exact opposite of the solution, but we have to treat this like a parasite: whatever is bad for it is good for the human it is inhabiting. Let's go. I'll call (Y/N) on the way back to Baker Street and have them meet us here. We have work to do." Sherlock walks out of the lab and while in the taxi picks up his phone. "(Y/N), it's Sherlock."

You feel something in your pocket. Upon impulse (and the fact that you never keep your phone in your pocket) you think that someone is already getting a little handsy, and you go to slap their hand away. But, there was nobody there and you just smacked your ass in the middle of a pub for no reason. _That_ got an interesting look out of Sam. Realizing that it was just your phone you answer the call. "Sherlock? Is everything okay? How did you even get my number? _Sam_ was the one that called you, not me."

"You act like phone numbers are some kind of secret suggesting a lack of privacy... interesting. Meet us back at Baker Street as soon as possible. I found the cure and neither of us have time to waste." With that out in the open, Sherlock decides to hang up.

"That was fast... okay guys, time to go! Sherlock found what we need."

Charlie stumbles over. "Whaa? How is that eeven possssible?" You exchange a few glances between her and her only half-filled glass of sangria. "Charlie, take a taxi back to the motel. We've got this." Sam walks over and takes notice of the scene. "Charlie, are you seriously drunk off of half of a sangria?" His question is answered when she stumbles and falls into him. "Yepp. Somebody named me lightes' weight in da wes' one time." Holding in his laughter, he does exactly like you said and gets her a taxi. Once he's out of earshot, you silently mumble "Jeez, and I thought '92 was bad."

On the way there, Dean could not keep still. That wouldn't bug you, but it was actually his _mouth_ that couldn't keep still. "Dean, we get it. You're happy. Now will you please just _shut up_ so our heads don't explode?" What follows next is the most awkward silence you have ever experienced.

The three of you walk into 221B with pure excitement in your faces. After over a year of waiting, all of the problems caused by the mark will finally be solved.

"I must say, this case was not nearly as challenging or, frankly, interesting as I thought. The cure is so simple that really anyone with half a brain could figure it out." "

So, what is it?" Dean asks rather impatiently.

"Dopamine. Preferably natural, but we can provide it artificially until you find your natural source."

"Wait, dope is the cure? No wonder they want to legalize marijuana... it's the magic cure-all!"

You couldn’t control your laughter on that one, and Sherlock looked at the two of you as if you actually were hooked on dope. "Sam, control your girlfriend. John, can you ever come up with a good title? 'Marked?' How original. And anyways, I thought we discussed this: you were not supposed to blog about this case. Doing so would be harmful to all parties involved, and there's no need for mass hysteria. Next thing we know people will come knocking saying that a demon possessed their moody friend. Dean, _dope_ is not the cure. _Dopamine_ is the cure. Dopamine is the chemical that mediates pleasure in the brain. It is released during pleasurable situations and stimulates one to seek out the pleasurable activity or occupation. So, in other words, the cure is happiness. But, not _just_ happiness will do the trick; it's not as powerful. As ridiculous as this may sound, you need love. You see, the mark craves murder, hatred, and simple, bloody violence. But that's all it is, a _craving._ Any craving can be reversed, and I did that artificially in the lab. The skin sample I received from the mark is completely cured, and it's only been about an hour."

"I'm sorry, are you trying to tell me that _true love_ is this almighty cure that nobody else besides you has figured out? This isn't a Disney movie. This is the real world, not fantasy-land, I stopped believing in that a long time ago. I honestly can't believe we even did this, let's go." Dean is almost out the door when you swallow any and all regrets that were surfacing. "Sit your fucking ass down right now Winchester. Just because a cure isn't some hoodoo spell with ingredients that are impossible to find doesn't mean that the cure is any less effective. Take it artificially for a week and see how it does, we aren't in any kind of a rush. Just in case you haven't figured this out already, Sherlock is brilliant. What he says has scientific evidence behind it, and the least we could do for him is give him some credit and effort here."

"(Y/N)... I'm not trying to offend anyone here, I'm just talking realistically. If the cure was this simple and this cliché, someone would’ve figured it out before. This isn't the cure and I know it. If you guys are happy living this way, believing everything you hear, that's fine with me. Just don't drag me into this. Just kill me before I kill again: that's the real cure. Living this life just isn't worth it anymore."

"You are so full of shit right now. You know that, right? Just a few hours ago you gave Sherlock permission to _tear you in half_ but you refuse to take medicine? You act like just because you have the mark you're the only person in the entire fucking universe that gets to have problems! Newsflash: you're not. You may have bigger problems, but stop treating us like we can't relate on even the tiniest level! We found what you need, and that's that. You would realize it if you didn't have a tree stuck up your ass like you do all of a sudden! Take the dopamine. End of story. Sorry you guys had to see that."

"I didn't mean to hurt you like that, just hear me out. You can't relate, only Cain can, and look at where that got him. We all know the path I'm on, and so you might as well just put me out of my misery. If you won't, I will."

Tears were in your eyes now. "You of all people should know that you write your own destiny. If you want to end it, fine. Just don't say I never did anything to help you."

**********

_Later that night (back at the motel)..._

Dean is alone outside the motel, sitting on the most uncomfortable bench known to man. To any other person, it would've looked like he was talking to himself. "I know you're busy right now, but I really need you. You probably already know, but we found the cure. I know I should be celebrating, but I really fucked things up this afternoon. See, the cure is something called dopamine, and Sherlock said that love is our best bet. Something about cravings, I don't know. But what I do know for sure, is my source. That's why I need you."

There is a faint flutter of wings, and then the silhouette of a trench coat. Then, the deep voice. "Dean..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you spot the twitter references????
> 
> Sorry to leave you hanging like that, but not all endings are nice.


	6. You Were With Me All the While

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Certain events from the series told from Castiel's point of view leading up to the present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn't see in the summary, this is written in Cas's POV and in first person.
> 
> I decided I didn't like the title of the fic or the fact that none of the chapters had names, so I decided to change them to lyrics from "The Search is Over" by Survivor.

You know, I've...I've been here for a very long time. And I remember many things. I remember being at a shoreline, watching a little grey fish heave itself up on the beach and an older brother saying, "don't step on that fish, Castiel. Big plans for that fish." I remember the Tower of Babel...All 37 feet of it, which I suppose was impressive at the time. And when it fell, they howled 'divine wrath'. But come on - dried dung can only be stacked so high. I remember Cain and Abel...David and Goliath...Sodom and Gomorrah. And, of course, I remember the most remarkable event - remarkable because it never came to pass. It was averted by two boys, a resourceful yet still naïve woman, an old drunk and a fallen angel. The grand story. And we ripped up the ending and the rules...And destiny...leaving nothing but freedom and choice. Which is all well and good, except... Well, what if I've made the wrong choice? How am I supposed to know? I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you my story. Let me tell you everything.

 

I remember sitting in the garden one day when my father came in and talked to me about the true meaning of destiny, and why he truly did so still puzzles me to this day. I was a relatively new angel and was still figuring out my purpose- well, besides serving God. The details are not completely clear, but I do know one thing he said for sure, and it is a code I live by to this day:

 

"Remember Castiel, there are going to be people that try to stand in your way. They are going to try to control you, be they prophets, humans, or even your own brothers and sisters. They will say 'It's your destiny' or 'it is what God wants' or 'I can't control it,' but none of these are the case. I am not always going to be around to guide you through these problems, so I want you to always remember what I am going to tell you. No one person controls your destiny. You may think that someone else, or even you, have complete control, but you don't and they don't. Everyone you come in contact with will affect you later on, some more than others. Be wary of your choices: know when to lead and when to follow. You see, living things need something to believe in, someone to depend on. For many people that is me, but I am no different than you. We all possess the ability to lead, the thing that makes it rare is knowing when to step down and let someone else lead in your position."

 

"Father, why are you telling me this? There are other angels that deserve this more than I do."

 

"No, Castiel, there isn't. I am telling you this because, one day, you will be the one I step down for. One day, you will lead, and I can say with absolute certainty that you are the most deserving. Simply the fact that you don't think you are deserving is why you deserve it. I know it can be overwhelming, but you need to know the truth. I believe in you and your abilities. You are the future, Castiel. I want you to think about the next three words I am going to say to you: destiny isn't real."

 

I have spent almost my entire life trying to decipher what he meant. I had never considered the possibility of my father leaving, and me assuming his place nonetheless. I never understood the purpose of prophecy if we could control it, yet, I had never seen anyone successfully do so. Prophecy was inevitable, until I met the Winchesters. Sam and Dean did anything and everything I previously thought impossible, and every angel knew it. Perhaps that was what made them so angry, the fact that simple humans had more power to their own destiny. Perhaps, they had felt betrayed. Perhaps, it was simply the fact that everything they previously knew was all a lie. Their existence was shattering before their own eyes, and they thought they couldn't do anything about it.

 

Perhaps that was all Raphael wanted to do when he tried to rule heaven after the apocalypse: reduce the hysteria by fulfilling the belief that all prophecy is absolute. Reduce confusion, stop rebellion at all costs.

 

But my siblings needed to know the truth. It made us stronger - at a cost, yes - but we survived, and with this new knowledge, we were better than ever before. All thanks to Sam, Dean, and (Y/N).

 

But most importantly Dean.

 

In my opinion, Dean was one of my father's best creations: he was flawlessly flawed. Everything about him represented perfection, and not just his features. There were arguably better creations throughout history - Gandhi, Walt Disney, Hammurabi, etc. - but none had a greater impact on the fate of the world than the Winchesters. But he was still flawed, and he knew it. He knew he would never be perfect but he lived every day like he could be, and not even I have mastered that skill yet. More importantly, none would go more unrecognized for their actions. They were the righteous men eternally damned to hell, and the most sickening part is that they sometimes think they deserved it; which brings me to my next memory.

 

I had been watching the Winchesters for a while. They were a curiosity to me, and no angel could figure out exactly why. I found myself engulfed in their lives, absorbing all there was to know. I was there whenever anything major happened: death, life-threatening injuries, reunions, meeting new hunters, and almost anything else they did. I was not there the day they rescued (Y/N), but I was fine because things had worked out well. I was not there the day Dean sold his soul for Sam, and it was one of my biggest regrets.

 

Coincidentally, the first day I started watching over the Winchesters was the day that Mary died. I was there when he attacked her, watching over Sam in the nursery. You could say that angels quite literally were watching over Sam like she had said, but I was not really watching over Sam as much as I was Azazel. I know it sounds ridiculous for an angel to be watching over a demon, but it was an order of God and who was I to resist? I wasn’t an archangel, I was just plain Castiel.

 

I witnessed the very moment that changed their lives forever, and created some of the best hunters of all time.

 

I knew what he was, and I wanted to smite him, or at least drop a few subtle hints to help them gain some closure. I was forbidden to smite because the angels wanted to remain a secret to the hunters until they had to reveal themselves, but they couldn’t stop me from at least helping out a little bit. So, I enlightened Missouri and led John to her.

 

That first time that I helped them was the first time I ever remember experiencing emotions. I thought I had finally understood the human saying that their feelings were “complicated,” but I had no idea what was in store.

 

I checked on them from time to time, healing lethal wounds just so much that they wouldn’t notice the effects of my grace, and most importantly, keeping the young hunters alive. But I could never stay too long, I actually wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place.

 

I was on Earth the day that Jessica died, but I was saving John. I was ordered to, on the grounds that it was destined for John to help kill Azazel, and for Jessica to die in that manner in order for Sam to continue hunting. It was then that I realized the road that Heaven was on so far, and if they would’ve just seen what they were doing from another perspective, I… I don’t know… maybe things would’ve been different. I was the only one that saw things differently, and maybe I would have been enough to save both lives- have Ezekiel or another loyal angel save John and I could save Jessica.

 

I could’ve done something. She could still be alive, and by now most likely married with children. I should’ve taken God’s words more seriously, I should’ve taken destiny into my own hands and thrown it out the window, but I was too scared. It never truly happened in human history at that point, and I guess I was just too loyal. I let her die. I ruined a man’s life, and I let his brother sell his soul at the end of it.

 

I wasn’t there when he needed me, and that was the first time I truly felt regret for my actions. They kept me doing small tasks that I now recognize as “busy work” and nobody ever gave me an explanation as to why. I was just about to reveal myself and heal Sam before Dean left, but the angels had forbidden it. “Don’t be stupid, Castiel,” they said. “It was meant to be, Castiel,” they said. Not once did they say anything meaningful to me, I shut them out.

 

Oddly enough, I experienced more than just regret that day. I experienced love. I didn’t tell anybody before now because love was- as some humans say- “frowned upon” in heaven, and for an angel to fall in love with a man was even worse. People and angels alike were not exactly as tolerant as they are now.

 

I don’t know exactly how it happened, I just know for sure that it was love. I guess nobody really knows how they fall in love, and it was not any easier for me to figure out. I suppose it was something about his selflessness and courage, and on that day I really could’ve used some of it. I was forced by my own family to let the man that I loved auction off his soul for his brother’s life and one extra year of living. They made me watch as his life as he knew it ended.

 

> _"Oh come on already. Show your face, you bitch!"_  
>    
> _"Easy sugar, you'll wake the neighbors. Dean. It is so, so good to see you. I mean it. Look at you. Gone and got your family killed. All alone in the world. It's too sweet. Excuse me, you're gonna have to give me a moment. Sometimes you gotta stop and smell the roses."_  
>    
> _"I should send you straight back to hell."_  
>    
> _"Oh, you should. But you won't. And I know why."_  
>    
> _"Oh yeah?"_  
>    
> _"Yeah. Following in Daddy's footsteps. You wanna make a deal. Little Sammy back from the dead, and—let me guess— you're offering up your own soul?"_  
>    
> _"There are a hundred other demons who'd love to get their hands on it. And it's all yours. All you got to do is bring Sam back. And give me ten years— ten years, and then you come for me."_  
>    
> _"You must be joking."_  
>    
> _"That's the same deal you give everybody else."_  
>    
> _"You're not everybody else. Why would I want to give you anything? Keep your gutter soul. It's too tarnished, anyway."_  
>    
> _"Nine years."_  
>    
> _"No."_  
>    
> _"Eight."_  
>    
> _"You keep going, I'll keep saying no."_  
>    
> _"Okay, five years. Five years, and my bill comes due. That's my last offer— five years or no deal."_  
>    
> _"Then no deal."_  
>    
> _"Fine."_  
>    
> _"Fine. Make sure you bury Sam before he starts stinking up the joint."_  
>    
> _"Wait."_  
>    
> _"It's a fire sale, and everything must go."_  
>    
> _"What do I have to do?"_  
>    
> _"First of all, quit groveling. Needy guys are such a turnoff. Look... Look, I shouldn't be doing this. I could get in a lot of trouble. But what can I say? I got a blind spot for you, Dean. You're like a... puppy. You're just too fun to play with. I'll do it."_  
>    
> _"You'll bring him back?"_
> 
> _"I will. And because I'm such a saint, I'll give you one year, and one year only. But here's the thing. If you try and welch or weasel your way out, then the deal is off. Sam drops dead. He's back to rotten meat in no time. So... It's a better deal than your dad ever got. What do you say?"_

  


I spent the entire year just like Sam did: trying to reverse the deal. As you know, that didn’t quite work out. Demons… they’re greedy. When making these contracts, they make them air-tight. Nobody in the history of the world has or will get out of one, and that is just the way of the world. I wish it was different for Dean.

 

I tried to forget as much of that year as possible, but there are just two memories that will never leave my memory: the Mystery Spot fiasco, and Dean getting mauled by hellhounds.

 

The Mystery Spot events were quite unusual. Gabriel finally enlightened me with his true motive just shortly before his death, and what actually happened is something completely different than what Sam assumed- insanity tends to do that to a man. The very concept of angel grace and the space-time continuum are very difficult to explain, so perhaps a metaphor would be helpful.

 

Consider these events to be a dog chasing its tail, me being the dog and Gabriel being the tail, constantly mocking the dog.You see, Gabriel was somehow informed on my little- as you humans say - "crush" and wanted to destroy it. So, instead of doing something to me, he decides to kill Dean. To him, it was like creating a joint Hell shared between Sam and I. Since I was there on the first day, I was forced to be there every day and watch him die over and over again. I couldn't talk to anybody, I just had to sit there in silence and watch. I would try to heal him, but Gabriel would simply turn back time before I could finish, hence the dog chasing its tail. Eventually, the dog gives up after it reaches a certain boiling point; mine was the tuesday that Sam finally discovered the syrup. Knowing that Sam took in every possible detail of the place, I was sure he would notice that tiny detail, so I switched the maple syrup to strawberry, but made it so that Gabriel wouldn't notice the difference. Luckily, my plan worked and I got out of there as soon as Wednesday came; but I was so excited to get away that I couldn't save Dean when he actually died.

 

I couldn't save him the day he went to Hell either.

 

I'm not going to go over the details of that day, they're too painful to relive, and you know them already. Everything happened as it seemed.

 

The minute Dean arrived in Hell “angel radio” was quiet, almost too quiet. Usually it is a deeply disorganized mess of angels talking to each other and higher powers giving orders; but there wasn’t a sound to be heard. It hadn’t been like this since Lucifer was put in the cage.

 

Then, a single voice. An unmistakable voice: God. I didn’t know it back then, but these were the last words he ever said to me:

“Save Dean. It’s your turn now.”

 

For the next four months, I made it my sole mission and purpose to save Dean. Not just because it was God’s will, but because I could see everything Dean was going through. When an angel needs to rescue a soul from hell, they tend to grasp onto that soul so they know exactly where to go, and that’s what I made the mistake of doing for Dean. Because this one man went through so much in his lifetime, his personal hell was unimaginable. I have been alive for eons, and I had never seen anything so horrendous. So really I did it for three people: God, Dean, and myself.

 

The operation was relatively simple: get in and get out, smite any demon you encounter along the way. But I couldn't just barge into Hell and take him, there were precautions and rules that all angels have to follow, and all plans and rescue missions had to be approved by an archangel or another higher power. That was why it took four months. I wanted to get him out that day, but I couldn’t.

 

The day finally came when I was able to rescue him. I was in my true form, which made things a lot easier on my part. Demons couldn't look at me without their eyes burning out of their head, so it was a lot harder to fight me when I came in. They still fought with their sense of smell, but their lack of vision made it easy for me to surprise them and smite whenever I got the chance. If need be, I used my angel blade, but there was no need. Back then, I had enough grace to handle it.

 

The things Dean saw made it very clear that he was in Alistair's chambers. He was infamous for the most brutal and personal methods, possibly the worst demon in the history of Hell when it came to torture. It is typical of hunters to go to him- they’re not exactly on good terms with demons- but I had never seen it this intense. Everything one could possibly use to torture a soul was used on Dean in one day. I suppose this was his way of getting Dean to torture souls as quickly as possible, and thirty years in Hell later that was exactly what he got; and exactly why I was finally permitted to save him.

 

I came barging through the entrance and the rescue went exactly as planned. Except, I couldn't quite get over the pure masculinity of Dean torturing souls: his muscular frame, the perfect amount of sweat on his brow, the dominant expression on his face, and almost anything else one would find attractive was present. As an angel, I should’ve been ashamed of myself. As a living creature, I felt desire and utter need. It is an incredibly rare occurrence, but when an angel "likes" a creature, they "mark their territory" temporarily. That was why Dean had the handprint, not just because I raised him from perdition.

 

As soon as I got him out, I tried to communicate to ease the confusion; but that only ended up hurting him and the psychic (I tried to warn her), so I went on the search for a vessel and found Jimmy Novak.

 

The meeting in the barn will forever be in my memory: the day I was finally able to communicate with the man I was beginning to love.

 

> _"Who are you?"_  
>    
> _"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."_  
>    
> _"Yeah. Thanks for that."_  
>    
> _"We need to talk, Dean. Alone. Your friend's alive."_  
>    
> _"Who are you?"_  
>    
> _"Castiel."_  
>    
> _"Yeah, I figured that much, I mean what are you?"_  
>    
> _"I'm an Angel of the Lord."_  
>    
> _"Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing."_  
>    
> _"This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith."_  
>    
> _"Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes."_  
>    
> _"I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be... overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that."_  
>    
> _"You mean the gas station and the motel. That was you talking? Buddy, next time, lower the volume."_  
>    
> _"That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong."_  
>    
> _"And what visage are you in now, huh? What, holy tax accountant?"_  
>    
> _"This? This is... a vessel."_  
>    
> _"You're possessing some poor bastard?"_  
>    
> _"He's a devout man, he actually prayed for this."_  
>    
> _"Well, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?"_  
>    
> _"I told you."_  
>    
> _"Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?"_  
>    
> _"Good things do happen, Dean."_  
>    
> _"Not in my experience."_  
>    
> _"What's the matter? You don't think you deserve to be saved?"_  
>    
> _"Why'd you do it?"_  
>    
> _"Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you."_

 

Enough of the past. The real reason why I'm telling you this is because of a conversation I recently had with Dean.

 

"I know you're busy right now, but I really need you. You probably already know, but we found the cure. I know I should be celebrating, but I really fucked things up this afternoon. See, the cure is something called dopamine, and Sherlock said that love is our best bet. Something about cravings, I don't know. But what I do know for sure, is my source. That's why I need you."

 

I had heard the news about the cure almost as soon as Sherlock announced it, so I thought I knew where this conversation was going.

 

"Dean..."

 

"Cas, thank god you're here! We found the cure!"

 

"I heard and-"

 

"Sorry, there's no time for that. Listen, I need you to fly me back over to the US. I need to talk to Lisa: I think she's exactly what I need."

 

Dean had interrupted me twice before I could get out the three words I had been wanting to say to him for years now. Saying I was mad was an understatement, but I couldn't let him see that.

 

"Cas? Are you okay?"

 

"Dean, I'm fine. Just give me a minute. Upon your request, I erased her memory and you just want to walk into her life and confess your love? I don't have to be human to know that that's not okay."

 

"Well then what do you want me to do? She was the last girl I remember actually loving."

 

Girl. I still have a chance. "Let's talk to Sam, (Y/N), and Charlie about it. They'll probably be helpful."

 

"I guess that would be fine. I can talk to them in the morning. You can go back to whatever you were doing before. Thanks, I guess."

 

If I couldn't say it then, I might as well say it now. As soon as Dean was out of earshot, I whispered "I love you, Dean."

 

"Did you say something Cas?"

 

"Nope."

 

He was just about to shut the door when I grasped onto any bit of courage I still had left.

 

"Dean?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"I actually did say something. I said 'I love you, Dean.'"

 

What did I just do?

  
If time ever did freeze, it would've frozen at that exact moment.


	7. The Questions of the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The greatest battles we fight are with ourselves.
> 
> WRITTEN IN DEAN'S POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for the feels.

"Dean?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"I actually did say something. I said 'I love you, Dean.'"

 

_Why does everyone assume I'm gay? Didn't I get enough of this crap during that musical?! Why is it so hard for people to grasp this concept: I AM HETEROSEXUAL!_

 

Better now than never, I guess. "Look...Cas...I like you...but not that way. I mean... you've really done a lot for us these past few years and all... but I like girls. If you meant that in a like 'I love you like family' way then, yes. I love you too, but I really don't swing that way if you know what I mean-"

 

"Dean, I don't understand. What does swinging have to do with anything. This is not a game or a pastime."

 

"It's just a saying... you know what, just forget it. I love you like family, you pulled me and Sammy out of the pit for crying out loud... I just don't love you in a romantic sense. I like girls."

 

"But _I_ love you in that way... what if I were to acquire a new vessel? One that was a woman..."

 

Angels... they really don't get it, do they?

 

"As long as you're Castiel you're a guy in our minds... changing vessels wouldn't change anything. Besides... Jimmy is a nice look on you."

 

"I think I understand... I'll leave you alone. Goodbye, Dean."

 

"Cas... before you leave..." He vanished before I could finish my sentence.

 

I walked into the room that Charlie and I were sharing (she's a lesbian you perverts!) and plopped down onto the bed with a half-drunk bottle of whiskey. She was already passed out from the pub earlier today, so I really had the room to myself. An hour later, it was nearly gone and my thoughts were running wild. Pretty soon there was another _me_ talking.*

 

*(A/N): the italicized portions are the second Dean talking.

 

_Look at that... Dean Winchester ruined another friendship. He probably won't come back, you know that right? He told you he loved you and you turned him down. You broke him. Just you watch, sometime you'll need him, and he'll refuse to come. Sam, (Y/N), Charlie, or somebody else could be dying and he would stay away. Somebody else will be dead because of you. It'll be entirely your fault._

 

"Shut up," I growled.

 

_He had a hard enough time forgiving you for the massacre at the ranch, but he'll never come back after what just happened. This was quite possibly the first time an angel ever truly loved and he was turned down because you "don't swing that way." Just perfect. You just lost the one person who had never stopped giving a damn about you. He's gone forever and there's nothing you can do about it. Bye bye Castiel! Can't say I'll miss you._

 

"NO! YOU'RE LYING! JUST SHUT UP! YOU DON’T KNOW THAT! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE!"

 

_Oh, but I do. Wanna know what else? You just said that out loud. Oh look Dean! You just woke up Charlie... and quite possibly all of London, but they won't care._

 

"Dean? You okay?"

 

_Aww she might actually care about you!_

 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bad dream, that's all. Go back to sleep."

 

_No you're not, and this right here is 100% real._

 

"If you say so. I'm right here if you need me."

 

_Is she really that naïve? Doesn't she know that nobody can help you? You can't be saved. You really don't want to be saved. You'd never admit it, but you liked being a demon. No, you loved it. Booze, power, and girls. The trifecta of awesome. You were actually kinda pissed that Sammy cured you. Well I've got news... you probably already know this but you're gonna turn back into a demon pretty soon. Except Crowley won't be there- you'll be all alone. But you'll manage. Find a girl to lay, drink a bar clean,sing some karaoke. Isn't that the dream? Screw the apple-pie life, been there done that. How boring! Nobody really wants that. Just give in and let it happen. It's what you want. Don't lie to yourself. You haven't been the same since you got back and you know that, and do you wanna know why? You got a taste of what you want, and then you got pulled back into this shithole of a life. Anyone would go insane. You, Dean Winchester, are no different._

"You don't know that. We found the cure. I. Want. This. You can't tell me any different."

 

_Oh, but I can. I'm you. I know that you don't think the cure is legit. Who could blame you? After all, this isn't a Disney movie. This. Is. Real. That mark will never go away and you know it. It's no big deal really, Cain seemed like a decent guy- oh wait. You killed him too! This just keeps on getting better._

 

"He needed to die."

 

_Did he really, or are you just making excuses again? You seem to be doing that a lot recently. Sure, he killed a few people, but how many more than you did in these past few years? You're no better than him and you know it. Cain's not dead. He's sitting on a motel bed in London with an empty bottle of whiskey in his hand arguing with himself._

 

"You son of a bitch. You're not real. Go away!"

 

E _asy tiger, you'll wake up the neighbors. Actually, I am real. I thought we established this: I'm you. You're me._

 

"You're lying."

 

_Well, demons do lie. But this... this is the truth._

 

"I'm not a demon. That part of me is gone."

 

_Well we established the connection at least. But, how certain are you that you're really cured? You may feel a little human, but there's that little fire growing inside of you and you're actually feeling it as we speak. Wanna know what that fire is? It's the demon inside of you. You're not human. Sam should've killed you a long time ago. You're nothing but a monster. And to think- you used to be righteous! Ha! Those angels don't know what they were talking about. They should’ve left you to rot in hell. The world would've been better off without you._

 

"I SAID SHUT UP!"

 

_I told you not to wake the neighbors._

 

"Dean, you're not okay. What happened? And before you say anything, don't give me that 'I'm fine' crap. Everyone here knows that you're in trouble. That's why we're in London."

 

_She has a point there you know._

 

"It's Cas. He told me he loved me and when I told him that I didn't love him that way he was really upset."

 

_That’s right. Let it flow. What’s one more person hating you?_

 

“I mean… I feel bad for the poor guy. Getting rejected sucks, but I can’t help it if I don’t like guys. I don’t want him to live a lie. He deserves the truth, even if it hurts.”

 

_Do you really think so?_

 

“Dean, you need to stop feeling guilty about everything. What other people say, do, and think is not your fault, even if it involves you. Go to sleep, it’s probably the whiskey talking. We can sort this out in the morning. It won’t do us any good when we’re both drunk, we probably won’t even remember this in the morning.”

 

“True. I’ll try to sleep.”

 

“Good.”

 

_You’re not going to sleep tonight. You have unfinished business to sort out, and you and I both know that that comes before sleeping. I just added the problems of the entire universe onto your shoulders, and you don’t sleep knowing that. Normally, you would just kill me. But I’m you, and you don’t want to kill yourself. No, not yet. Little Dean still thinks he’s strong and can fight this, but you’re losing hope and fast. Sooner or later you'll come to your senses, they always do._

 

"I'll never give in. There's always a reason to keep fighting, and so help me as long as I have one I'm staying. I won't turn back into that thing ever again."

 

_Okay, so you'll be later rather than sooner. You can't stop the inevitable. You're gonna be a demon again. This is what you're gonna become!_

 

"If there's one thing we Winchesters do best, it's overcoming the supposed inevitable."

 

_So you stop the apocalypse and you think that everything that follows is gonna be the same deal? Newsflash- there's no cage to trap the monster inside of you, all that's left is to embrace it!_

 

"Never."

 

_You say that now, but that hope's not gonna last. You're gonna give up and pull the trigger one day. Who knows when? Could be tomorrow, next week, or it could even be during this very conversation. We all know you have some sort of weapon under your pillow at any given moment. Let's see... hmm... a gun. How perfect! Just blow your brains out right now and it'll all be over with. It's right here, just take it. C'mon Dean, we all know you want to._

 

"I'm not gonna say this again. I'm not leaving."

 

_Of course you're not gonna say that again. You're gonna give up before you have the chance. Take the gun. If you weren't going to, I wouldn't be here right now. You and I both know that I'm just an image projected from the little brain in your head._

 

"You know what, just give it to me."

 

_Now we're talking. I led the horse to water and now it's gonna-_

 

I shot him before he finished.

 

I needed sleep and I wasn't gonna get any with him screaming at me. Even hunters need their four hours every once in a while.

 

What I forgot was that a gunshot is loud enough to wake up a few blocks of people, so naturally Sam and (Y/N) came running in from the next room two seconds later armed with guns, knives, and salt.

 

“Dean! Charlie! What’s wrong?” Sam yells.

 

“Ask Dean, he’s been crazy all night!”

 

“Thanks a lot Charlie, I mean really, thanks. Means a lot.”

 

_Who knew Charlie could make that good of a bitchface? Really reminds me of your brother. Impressive._

 

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”

 

“Dean. What the hell is going on? Are you okay?” (Y/N) asks, possibly concerned.

 

_Go on. Tell them._

 

“I’m just peachy, thanks for asking.”

 

_Dean, Dean, Dean. We all know that’s not what any of us meant._

 

“Will you just shut up already?!?”

 

“Dean…” Sam starts.

 

_Better watch out Dean, you may end up just like Sammy did a few years ago with Lucifer. Nobody wants that, do they?_

 

“Guys, I’M FINE. I thought I saw something so I shot at it… reflexes, ‘ya know? I see now that there’s nothing there.”

 

_Ouch, that hurts. You really shouldn’t lie to them like that._

 

“The shouting was just a bad dream possibly mixed with some alcohol. Will you please just leave me alone so I can get some real sleep?”

 

“You know what… no. We _won’t_ leave you alone until you tell us what’s really going on. Spare us the bullshit.”

 

_Easy on the language there (Y/N)._

 

“Can we just talk about this in the morning? _Please?_ I really don’t wanna talk about this right now.”

 

“We’ve been through this too many times to wait until morning. Charlie could’ve been standing there on her way to go to the bathroom or something! You don’t just shoot at something like that unless something is seriously wrong.”

 

_Woah Dean, you really pissed off Sam there. Really makes you think what you were interrupting if ya know what I mean…_

 

“Oh gross. Listen, I don’t feel comfortable talking about this right now so can you please just get the hell out of here and leave me be?”

 

_Is it just me or did the room just get a million times more angry than it was? I know I’m you and all but even I didn’t see that coming._

“You know what? We came here because of you and all you’ve been since we got here is ungrateful. Maybe we should just leave you alone… here. While we go back home. You obviously don’t want and/or need us anymore. Just turn back into a demon for all I care.”

 

_See? (Y/N) gets the idea!_

 

“That’s not what I want at all (Y/N). It’s just… it’s complicated.”

 

“Whatever it is, I’m sure we’ve been through worse. Spill.”

 

“This. Is. Different.”

 

“No. It’s. Not.”

 

_Go on. Tell them. Tell them how Cas confessed his love, you turned him down, you got drunk, started arguing with yourself, shot a figment of your imagination, and how you’re now arguing about it to your family. It’s not that hard._

 

“You won’t understand.”

 

Charlie steps in. “Dean, I think I know what this is about. I get it… it is complicated, but it’s not that complicated that you have to do all of this. I can’t understand everything you’re going through, but I can try. He’s right, you guys should go. I can fill you in later if need be.”

 

“Thanks Charlie. C’mon (Y/N), lets go.” With that, they left. Why can’t I do that?

 

_Two down, one to go… am I right?_

 

“More like two down, two to go.” I mumbled.

 

“Dean, you have a serious problem right now.”

 

“No I don’t.”

 

_Yes you do._

 

“Lets see: you broke your angel, drank half a bottle of whiskey, and now you’re arguing with something that’s not there due to the whiskey and a bit of sleep deprivation. I went through that too; albeit probably not nearly as intense as you, but to some degree I relate.”

 

_Wow. She’s good at this! Somebody should give her a prize._

 

“How did you know that?”

 

“It happened the night I questioned my sexuality and I can tell you’re doing the same. To some degree, you love Cas too, you’re just too caught up in the idea of not being hetero that you haven’t let logic in. You know it’s possible and completely socially acceptable to love _both_ men and women, right?”

 

“I’m going out. I need some air.”

 

“Fine, but answer the question first.”

 

I walked out the door before I answered.

 

_You know I follow you everywhere you go, not just in the motel room, right?_

 

“Oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me right now. SHUT THE HELL UP.”

 

_You know, I would. I really would, but this is too much fun!_

 

“Okay, what do you want? What’ll make you go away?”

 

_Dean, don’t ask questions you already know the answer to. I go away when you die and become a demon again._

 

“No, I don’t think so. I think there’s something else to this.”

 

_And what would that be? I' don't see you doing much of anything that will actually help you at the moment. Everyone just thinks you're crazy._

"Oh, I have a plan."

 

_Care to share that with the rest of the class?_

 

"Nope. You'll see it sooner or later." I called over a taxi and got in. "221B Baker Street."

 

_Ooh, big bad Sherlock is gonna solve all of your problems. He's full of just about as much bullshit as you._

 

Silence.

 

_So you're ignoring me now? Everybody knows you suck at giving the silent treatment._

 

The taxi pulled up to 221B and I didn't even bother knocking, I just pulled out my lockpick. Once I was in, I went directly to the living room. That was when Sherlock walked out of what I think was his room.

 

"Dean? What the hell are you doing here?!?"

 

"Something's wrong. I need the artificial cure. Now."

 

"I'm not even going to try and deduce this right now. I'll give you one better than that actually. Here's some charab essence. Now will you please leave?"

 

"Sherlock? Who's there? I thought we discussed you walking out like that-" John says, walking out of the same room.

 

_Scandalous. Why was this never in the blog?_

 

"Um... I'll leave you guys be. Sherlock, by any chance do you have anything that could get me back to America without a plane, boat, or creature? I think there's a few different teleporting spells, but I don't have the necessary ingredients."

 

_You know, if you had Cas he could just fly you back. Too bad you broke him._

 

"Got it. Now, if you don't mind, take it and leave."

 

"That was exactly what I was planning to do. Thanks for everything. If you ever need anything give me a call."

 

First thing's first: teleport back to the airport and drive Baby back to the bunker.

 

***10 minutes later***

 

"That's more like it! Baby, I missed you so much."

 

_Seriously? If you talk even remotely like that to Cas it's no wonder he loves you._

 

"You've got to be kidding me."

 

_I just told you this about 30 minutes ago: I follow you everywhere. Wanna know what I think about this whole fiasco? I think you really do love Cas, you just don't want to admit it. The world's pretty great outside the closet, Dean!_

 

"You know, I was gonna wait a little while to do this, but you are the most annoying thing I have ever met- worse than fairies, and that's really saying something." I downed the charab essence and suddenly he disappeared.

 

I rolled up my sleeve, and somehow the mark was gone!

 

"HALLELUJAH!"

 

I can finally breathe easy again.

 

On the way back to the bunker, I couldn't keep my mind off of everything Cas has done for us.

 

He rescued me from hell.

 

> “I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”

 

He kept things straight with me, even when he knew I didn’t want it. He believed in me.

 

> “Is it true? Did I break the first seal? Did I start all this?”
> 
>  
> 
> “Yes. When we discovered Lilith's plan for you, we laid siege to hell and we fought our way to get to you before you—”
> 
>  
> 
> “Jump-started the apocalypse.”
> 
>  
> 
> “And we were too late.”
> 
>  
> 
> “Why didn't you just leave me there, then?”
> 
>  
> 
> “It's not blame that falls on you, Dean, it's fate. The righteous man who begins it is the only one who can finish it. You have to stop it.”
> 
>  
> 
> “Lucifer? The apocalypse? What does that mean? Hey! Don't you go disappearing on me, you son of a bitch. What does that mean!”
> 
>  
> 
> “I don't know.”
> 
>  
> 
> “Bull.”
> 
>  
> 
> “I don't. Dean, they don't tell me much. I know our fate rests with you.”
> 
>  
> 
> “Well, then you guys are screwed. I can't do it, Cas. It's too big. Alastair was right. I'm not all here. I'm not—I'm not strong enough. Well, I guess I'm not the man either of our dads wanted me to be. Find someone else. It's not me.”

 

He tried to comfort us when we were going through tough times.

 

> “We've been through much together, you and I. And I just wanted to say, I'm sorry it ended like this.”
> 
> “‘Sorry?’ It's Armageddon, Cas. You need a bigger word than ‘sorry.’”
> 
> “Try to understand -- this is long foretold. This is your…”
> 
> “Destiny? Don't give me that ‘holy’ crap. Destiny, God's plan... It's all a bunch of lies, you poor, stupid son of a bitch! It's just a way for your bosses to keep me and keep you in line! You know what's real? People, families -- that's real. And you're gonna watch them all burn?”
> 
> “What is so worth saving? I see nothing but pain here. I see inside you. I see your guilt, your anger, confusion. In paradise, all is forgiven. You'll be at peace. Even with Sam.”
> 
> “You can take your peace... and shove it up your lily-white ass. 'Cause I'll take the pain and the guilt. I'll even take Sam as is. It's a lot better than being some Stepford bitch in paradise. This is simple, Cas! No more crap about being a good soldier. There is a right and there is a wrong here, and you know it. Look at me! You know it! You were gonna help me once, weren't you? You were gonna warn me about all this, before they dragged you back to Bible camp. Help me -- now. Please.”
> 
> “What would you have me do?”

 

He rebelled for me.

> “What, are you crazy?  I rebelled for this?! So that you could surrender to them?”
> 
> “Cas! Please!”
> 
> “I gave everything for you. And this is what you give to me!”

 

He rescued Sam.

 

> “Sam, I am the one who raised you from perdition.”

 

I never realized until now how much he did for us. How much of it I took for granted. If I could re-do it all, I would.

 

But, as usual, I fucked everything up and now my life as I know it is ruined.

 

I’ll handle this in the morning.

 

***5 hours later***

 

I wake up to my phone vibrating from a text.

 

 **Sam:** Dean! Where the hell are you?!?

 **Me:** Home. I’m fine.

 **Sam:** What’s going on with you?

 **Me:** I need to sort some things out.

 **Sam:** Yeah, I kinda got that from last night’s conversation.

 **Sam:** There’s something seriously wrong with you.

 **Me:** There’s always something wrong with me.

 **Sam:** You’re pathetic.

 **Me:** Bitch

 **Sam:** Not today…

 **Sam:** Jerk.

 **Sam:** Wait. How are you home?

 **Me:** Teleporting spell. Drove Baby back 2 the bunker.

 **Sam:** Where did you get all of the ingredients? We don’t exactly know people in London.

 **Me:** Sherlock. Now will you please leave me be?

 **Sam:** Fine, but we’re leaving now.

 

I guess now’s as good of a time as any to start fixing my shit.

 

“Cas? I know you probably hate me right now, but we really need to talk. The mark is gone. Everyone is officially angry at me- including me, I think. But, I realized something in all of this: I think I love you back. Please don’t leave me anymore, we need you. I need you. I love you.”

 

“I thought you said you didn’t swing that way.”

 

“Cas? Is that really you?”

 

“Yes, yes it is.”

 

Tears were forming in my eyes and we both knew it. “I love you. Please don’t ever leave.”

 

If my vision wasn’t so blurry at the time, I would’ve seen the tears forming in his eyes too. “I won’t. I love you Dean. I mean it.”

 

I pulled him into a kiss, and I finally understood.

 

* * *

 

“Well, it’s about damn time! Congrats bro!”

 

Cas turns his head, and I did so after. “Gabriel?”

 

“Hells yeah! I was never really dead. Surprise! Miss me?”

 

I spoke for Cas through his confusion. “How the hell are you still alive? Lucifer killed you like 5 years ago…”

 

“And that exact day you saw me fake my death before you thought I actually died. I’m good at this kind of stuff, you know that, right? Anyways, I’m here to help you sorry sons of bitches by (a) congratulating you two on finally giving up the innuendo for the real thing, and (b) telling you how to really get the mark off of your arm. Dean, I know you think its gone, but look now. It’s not.”

 

I rolled up my sleeve. He was right.

  
“Here’s what you _really_ have to do…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! I consider this one one of my best chapters ever, but I'd really love to know what you think!


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